


baby I'm fragile/ pick the pieces up

by HopePotter



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Angst, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Crying, Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, Gen, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Mental Health Issues, Mentioned May Parker (Spider-Man), Michelle Jones Is a Good Bro, Peter Angst, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Whump, School
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:07:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27256168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HopePotter/pseuds/HopePotter
Summary: It was sad seeing his math grades drop, while his knowledge in numbers ironically grew.He knew the amount of calories in a tablespoon of butter, half an avocado, banana, peanut butter, milk, and more.It was the first time he had despised learning.ORPeters mental health slowly declines as school starts up again after quarantine
Relationships: Michelle Jones & Ned Leeds & Peter Parker, Michelle Jones & Peter Parker, Ned Leeds & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 5
Kudos: 76





	baby I'm fragile/ pick the pieces up

**Author's Note:**

> i want to leave a long note, but i am tired. hoping that posting this will remind me of my better qualities that do not involve biology because i have lost track of time once again and have a day left to prepare for a homeostasis test. drink water, get a snack, and leave some thoughts below if you would like, it may help lift my spirits :) take care guys.
> 
> Title from Fragile by Kygo and Labrinth,  
> tw for mentions of self harm and bad relationships with food, mentions of death (no real characters) tread carefully!
> 
> ~Hope <3

Imagine working on a card stack for 6 months, and you're not done but you've gone a long way and you're happy with your progress. Then out of nowhere, someone blows it down.

That was what school did to Peter instantly after 6 months of quarantine.

"Peter, you need to decide where you want to apply by the end of next week. You don't have time to say  _ probably _ anymore."

Tony. He knew that the man was trying to look out for him and save him stress in the future, but that didn't stop him from going to the closest bathroom and screaming at the mirror, tears streaming down his face as he projected his stress in silence, wishing that he could  _ kill _ the person in the mirror.

"I want to do a workout challenge, want to join? We can do little rules, like cutting out carbs. Bread is bad for you," Ned had told their group when they met up at a park one day.

Michelle's gaze lingered on Peter's, as if sensing the fight triggered in his brain at Neds comment.

She stared at Ned for a couple of seconds before launching into an in depth explanation on the importance of carbs and complex carbohydrates giving humans energy. 

For that, he was grateful.

Tests, exams, applications, scholarships, death, struggling with food. Peter pushed it to the side, like a dam holding back strong waves of cortisol.

His dam was breaking.

_ Shut up. Carbs are good, they give you energy. _ You don't know what you're doing with your life.  _ What if I die? God, help me. _

He had two quizzes today.

Biology and International Business. He was already overwhelmed.

As if that was not enough, the message he got from MJ crushed him.

**From: Activist**

**Hey Peter, check the school email. Do you know who it is?**

Feeling his heart race, he quickly logged into his email and looked at the most recent message.

The school flag has been lowered due to a tragic death of a Midtown student.

There was more, but he couldn't continue reading.

_ Dead. Tragic. How old was this student? They had a personality, memories, a life, dreams. _

They didn't even make it past the year.

He slowly got into bed, covered his face with a pillow, and sobbed.

The worse thing was not that they lowered the flag. It was seeing how quickly everyone had accepted the news, and  _ moved on. _

He later found out it was a grade 9.

His chest felt torn, like he'd been gutted with a javelin.

_ This is not about you. _

His week was a mess. The amount of times he had grabbed a box cutter, held it to his arm and dropped it again was shocking. The only reason he had held it and not dragged it was the 7 month clean streak on his phone, so close to a year.

He did not think he could make it. Not with all this worry. Not with the shame and issues with food. 

* * *

He was laughing. A sick tug at his throat, reminiscing all the moments he had been confused as to why anyone was counting calories, how could they just  _ not _ eat? 

Then May lost her job, he started sacrificing his portions, then realized he craved the control. He may not be able to cut or do good on tests, control the world around him but this, this he could control. Plus, a failure like him didn't deserve to eat.

It was sad seeing his math grades drop, while his knowledge in numbers ironically grew.

He knew the amount of calories in a tablespoon of butter, half an avocado, banana, peanut butter, milk, and more.

It was the first time he had despised learning.

Wings slowed by Birdy played on repeat, and as she tore his heart out, he walked to biology.

As the teacher droned on about DNA and parent strands, he counted to 3 and tried not to cry.

_ Focus. Come on Peter. You'll have to teach it to yourself anyways, what's the point? _

So he zoned out and imagined scenarios in which  _ he _ finally broke down. He didn't want attention, he just wanted to explode.

Because day after day, all he did was implode.

* * *

Wet ripples hit his feet, the rain had just stopped but he could still feel the breeze on his face.

The teacher had done her daily 'check-up' and he had decided to shake his hand slightly, not good or bad. Average.

She zoned in on his trembling hand.

"Peter? Why not good? Are you overwhelmed?"

He shook his head.

"Tired?"

_ Why is she prying? _

"No I'm good," he laughed through his mask, but his eyes were heavy, "I'm used to waking up early now."

He zoned out an hour in and smirked at his hypocrisy.

_ God  _ he really missed the past. At least he knew he had lived then. The future seemed hazy, like a train speeding up, but his nervous system wasn’t relaying the impulse to his body. So he was standing there, frozen, while the flaring lights seared themselves into his retina.

He was floating.

**Author's Note:**

> there it is kids, tell me if you want more fics like this. this is honestly a vent fic but also just me projecting my mood onto peter, i started this in september so, yea. everything is going to be okay, if you want to talk, my tumblr is @ hopepotterwriter
> 
> ~Hope ☕✌


End file.
